


Mutual Satisfaction

by beckzorz (heckofabecca)



Category: Destroyer (2018)
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mutual Masturbation, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-23 18:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21085559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heckofabecca/pseuds/beckzorz
Summary: Once your undercover mission is over, you can stop pretending to be married and start being honest about being attracted.





	Mutual Satisfaction

**Author's Note:**

> From a prompt on Tumblr. I've never written for this fandom before, so go easy on me <3 Enjoy!

Close quarters have never been this unsettling.

Usually, when you’re stuck doing overnights with a partner, you at least have separate beds. Or separate rooms, if your partner’s a man. This time?

This time, your partner being a man is the whole point.

And he’s a _ man_. You’ve never been paired with an agent as delicious as Chris. Thick brown hair, full beard, sharp blue eyes that see right through you. Hell, the first time you met him you could tell exactly three seconds in that he knew exactly how hot you found him.

Of course, he hadn’t seemed to mind.

Still, it’s nine days later, and you’re stuck posing as a married couple on a romantic getaway in a tiny town upstate, the same tiny town that’s the center of a human trafficking ring. Your whole wardrobe is borrowed from your cousin, right down to the wedding ring from her dissolved marriage. The gauzy sundresses, the silk scarves, the bright lipstick.

It’s not you, not by a long shot. The lack of pockets is killing you, not to mention the impractical sandals. But you don’t look bad. Hell, you’ve caught Chris checking you out even in the privacy of your room at the quaint B&B. And when a man like _ that _ looks at you with heat in his eyes…

Well.

You don’t mind.

In due course, the trafficking ring is exposed, and the perps are all cuffed and taken in. Your superior officer calls with commendations and a day off tomorrow, which you accept.

Chris gets off a similar call with his boss, and you watch as his eyes dart to you. He clears his throat.

“The reservation is for one more night,” he says. “Did you want the room, or—”

“The bed’s big enough for two,” you interrupt. You hold out your hand to him and wiggle your eyebrows. “Coming?”

* * *

Your first kiss behind closed doors leaves you nearly in _ tears_. Now that he’s not playing the part of a sedate husband, he exudes a dominance that has you weak at the knees. His mouth captures yours with zero tenderness and an infinity of wanton heat. He squeezes your hips, his touch and his lips shooting fire through your veins down to your clit. You moan against his mouth, curl your fingers in his hair, _ pull_.

Chris grunts and shoves you back onto the bed. He drops to his knees between your dangling legs and shoves your sundress up, baring your panties and your belly button.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he orders. He kneads your thighs, his bright eyes fixed on you with that same sharpness from the first time you’d met.

You bite your lip. “Show me too,” you breathe. You trail your fingers down your neck, from your collarbone down until you can tweak your nipples between your fingers. A whimper falls from your lips as you twitch, and Chris curses under his breath. He pops the button on his jeans, eases the zipper down, and lets his cock spring free.

He’s half hard and already looking like a treat. He spits into his hand and rubs it along his length, hissing as he stares at your hands, still playing with your breasts.

“Pull down your dress,” he says, voice raspy.

He doesn’t have to ask twice—you shimmy the straps off your shoulders and push the sundress down so it’s bunched around your waist. Your breasts spread across your chest, leaving a valley through which you can look down your body and stare at Chris. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils wide, his lips just parted. You prop yourself up on one elbow, and then you can see him fisting his cock even better. It swells even as you watch, the tip bright and shiny with his own arousal. You pull hard on your nipple, your nails digging desperately into your skin as you try to keep focus on the man at your feet despite the sparks dancing under your skin. Sweat prickles at your brow.

Chris nudges your knee with his shoulder. “Touch yourself, sexy.” He’s practically _ begging_, and god, it’s so damn hot you can feel your cunt quiver and gush from his voice alone.

The first brush of your index finger against your clit has you gasping. Lights dance behind your eyes as you tease yourself, feather-light touches that do nothing to relieve the pressure building in your core. Chris is enraptured, his jaw slack and his eyes glassy. He glances up at your face, catches your eye, and grins shakily.

“So sexy,” he murmurs.

You shove two fingers into your cunt, hissing at the sudden intrusion. A few pumps, and you pull your fingers up and circle your clit with slick fingers. It’s good, but not enough, not enough…

Chris clambers to his feet and kicks off his jeans, his briefs, his shoes. His shirt’s gone in a moment, leaving him standing thoroughly bare before you. Your hand stills against your clit.

You’ve seen him shirtless before, but you’ve never been allowed to _ look_. Your mouth goes dry—there’s a dusting of hair against his defined chest, a trail of hair that leads to his cock, an Adonis belt sharp as knives.

“Fuck me,” you mutter.

“Maybe later,” Chris retorts. He sits at the head of the bed, his knees bent and spread, his back against the wall. “C’mere.”

With a groan, you force yourself up despite your weak arms and settle opposite him. A better view, and sitting up like this, you can lean against the footboard and use both hands. Chris is back stroking his cock, the whole thing shiny with spit and precum. You lean forward and press your fingers to his lips. He opens up obligingly, sucks the sticky slick off your fingers, and moans as you pull your fingers away.

Your fingertips glide around your clit as you stuff three fingers up your cunt, curling them, circling them inside your body. From this angle, you can just hit that spot that does you in, and your breath comes in short bursts as your vision goes spotty.

“Oh god,” you breathe, and Chris grunts. His hand flies along his cock, the other hand cupping his balls. He ruts his hips against his hand; you can barely see, but you know he’s still watching you.

Every vein is on fire. Every nerve, every bit of skin—under his gaze, under your hands, and all of it radiating to your core. A tilt of your own hips, and the fingers inside suddenly go a hair deeper, and reach that spot just that much better—

A cry tumbles from your lips, and your head falls back, eyes squeezing shut as you tremble through the climax. It’s like flying through the air, your whole body suspended in that moment, everything all about that bundle of nerves bursting under a frenzied touch, the rush of arousal soaking your fingers, the clenching of your walls, the tightening of your breasts.

“_Fuck!_”

Chris’s voice cuts through the haze in your brain, and you blink away half your stupor to see his cock pulsing, cum painting lines against his abs. His lips are dark, his eyes squeezed shut, his cheeks pink. He looks like… like…

You don’t have words. You just have feelings, hot and warm and sparkling and still so _ hungry _ as your body oozes into the blanket.

You pant, Chris pants, and it’s a minute before he opens his eyes. His cock softens in his lax grip, and you lay your head against the blanket, all your muscles jelly. The blanket is cool against your damp cheek.

Chris finally opens his eyes. They’re glassy, but he blinks enough so you can see a hint of that sharpness as he looks at you, his gaze trailing from your face to your breasts to the hand on your naked hip.

“Damn,” he says. He shakes his head a little. “Damn.”

You giggle. “I won’t argue with that.” You rub your thighs together, watch the way his eyes dart back between your legs. “Is it later yet?”

“Huh?” If his confusion wasn’t so clearly tied to being distracted by you, you’d tease him. As it is…

“You said you’d fuck me later,” you remind him. His eyes widen, and then his lips curl in a lazy grin.

“Not yet,” he says. He crawls over to you, his face hovering inches from yours. There’s a world of promise in his blackened eyes, in his smug smile. “How can I fuck you when I don’t even know how you taste?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” you breathe.

And he does.


End file.
